Here's part 7 of the story. As always, this is purely fictional. No real boys were hurt while writing this, please do not hurt any while reading or afterwards. Thanks!
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Okay, let's get back to John and me. If you remember, John has just asked me, why it tickles so much when Andy sucks on his dick.
- or how I became what I am today.
Teaching Andy and John.
“Go back to Andy’s room, I’ll be there in a minute,” I said to John.
He closed the door, I could see through the glass in it how he ran out of the kitchen. Oh, what joy it must have been to have the energy to being able to run or skip everywhere, only stopping when you’re so exhausted, that you almost fall asleep in the middle of a step. I gave it some thought as to how I was going to explain the wonder of pleasure. If I should go further and tell the boys of the joy of orgasms. I didn’t want it to turn into a clinical lecture.
The boys wouldn’t find that interesting and didn’t really need to know about nerve endings and erotic pleasure zones.
‘Maybe I’ll explain them a bit of the zones,’ I thought, ‘just a bit of what they are and that they are all over the body. They can have fun trying to locate them.’
I stumped out the cigarette and put the butt in the ashtray I kept out there. The boys sat waiting on the lower bunk bed as I entered Andy’s room.
“So, what was it you wanted to know?” I asked John.
“Why does it tickle so much?” He asked, “when Andy sucks on it?” He pointed at his dicky.
“Is it a ticklish tickle or a good tickle?”
“Good. Also ticklish. Mostly it just tickles.”
“Well boys, your penis likes when it is touched,” both boys nodded, “you can make it feel good yourself or someone else can make it feel good for you.”
“It’s funnier when John does it,” Andy pointed out.
“It’s almost always better when someone else do it for you,” I agreed, “have you done it so long that it makes you feel like you have to pee real bad?”
“Andy just did that to mine!”
“Was that the first time?”
“Want me to teach you how to make it feel like that every time you do it?”
“Yeah!” Both boys exclaimed.
“Okay. You can make the tickles appear in different ways,” the boys looked at me excitedly, when I said this. “You can use your fingers or you can use your mouth and tongue.”
“Watch this, Andy,” I told him as I gently took hold of John’s dicky with my thumb and forefinger.
Andy leaned right over so he got a close up look of how I held it. John sat with his legs spread but giggling a little. I carefully massaged his little dicky with my two fingers, almost rolling it between them. It took a little time but it started to fill with blood and soon was as erect as it could be.
“Why does it do that?” John asked.
“Well, when you get a little older, you can stick it into something, but that’s not so important right now,” I explained while still moving my fingers about on the little warm stick of wood between his legs.
“Now, John doesn’t have the skin over his head, so you need to be careful, Andy,” I told my son, “See how I’m holding his dicky just under the head?”
“Now, when you want John to have the real good tickles, you need to do this,” I moved my hand a little towards myself, pulling a bit of the skin from the shaft of his dick half ways over his dick head.
Fortunately his circumcision hadn’t been one of those real tight ones. The skin on the shaft was fairly loose even when his dick was erect. Had the skin been much tighter, I would have had to use some form of lubricant. I pushed my hand back towards the base of John’s dicky.
“You have to be real careful not to pull at it too hard or to hold it too tight, okay?” I told my son, who was still observing, “How does it feel John?”
“It tickles but not bad,” he told me, also keeping watch over my manipulation of his private part.
“Good, I’m going to see if I can make you feel what I talked about, is that okay?”
“It may take a few minutes, but let’s find out,” I started masturbating his dicky using slow and delicate strokes.
I tried to remember just when I had held such a little penis in my hand, trying to coerce a kiddy orgasm out of it. ‘Was it really when I taught Thomas how to properly jerk off?’
No, I remembered another time with another boy. Much younger than I had been at the time. I was 14 or so and it had been one of the younger friends of a younger friend of mine. Okay, that sounds awfully complicated explaining it like that. You remember the kid in the swimming pool? The one that always had to stick his finger into the vagina of the girl, who later wanted to kiss me for being her hero? Yes? He was two years younger than me.
It was one of his friends, who was two years younger than him. Making him ten years old at the time. We were in my room, playing a game. I think he had come over looking for the friend of his, then decided to just hang out with me since the friend wasn’t at my place. At some point during his visit I forced him to show me his dick. And his dick had been the last little dicky I had tried to get to orgasm. It ended up with the boy leaving in a hurry, calling me names. Rightfully so. That’s a part of my life I wish never happened.
Focusing back on the task at hand, John was happily leaning back on the bed, he had propped up his upper body using his lower arms and elbows as support. His legs splayed open. He kept his head up, looking at my fingers stroking his dicky. Oh the agility of a young boy. I envy it. I didn’t say anything, just let the boys take in the experience and learn by watching. I kept a close watch on John’s reactions, reading them much like I would a speedometer in a car.
When his little tummy and chest would start moving ever so slightly faster in and out, I’d increase the tempo on his dicky. Just by a fraction. I could tell he was clearly enjoying himself, even if he was concentrating so much more than I thought a six years old boy could. If his breathing slowed, I slowed down my strokes a bit so I could get his build-up towards orgasm back on track. I wanted this, his first time, to be a perfect experience for him.
Of course he didn’t keep perfectly still, it was after all not a doll with a penis I was playing with. His thigh muscles would tense briefly, bringing his knees up from the mattress then slowly relax back to it. He’d curl the little toes on his feet up and relax them randomly, showing all the signs of a boy not fully understanding what his body was feeling. A boy not knowing where this journey he had set out on would take him, but had made up his mind to enjoy every step of the way.
I followed him along the road all the way to the end. When he finally had his kiddy cum, completely dry of course, he straightened his legs and feet. His entire body was tense. He kept it that way for more than just a few seconds before relaxing it.
“That was cool!” he said.
As if I’d only shown him how to shoot hoops or something. At first I was a little puzzled, but memories of Casey and I doing the same thing, told me that for John, it was simply another game. It wasn’t an expression of love or triggered by horniness. It was thrilling, yes, but rolling down a long hill was thrilling too. At least until you rolled into a rock halfway down.
“Now me,” Andy said, understanding I had finished with John.
Oh, I would have loved giving my only son the same feelings, but John really wanted to try it. To give Andy the real tickles, he called it. Who was I to refuse him doing that to his friend? At least I would be there to witness my son’s first orgasm. That’s more than most parents can say, isn’t it?
I had Andy lie in his bed but with his head and upper body propped up on a couple of pillows. Then John kneeled beside him so he could easily reach the dink of my son. It was about the same length as John’s, probably 7 cm or so. He had a foreskin that covered the head completely even when erect. When his dink was flaccid, the foreskin was a one cm floppy tip. I showed John where and how to hold Andy’s dick and how to move the skin up and down over the head.
Oh, how Andy giggled as we handled his dink. He almost couldn’t keep his legs apart, trying to shield his little package from our exploring fingers. Eventually he was able to relax some when he found out the signals coming from his little dink wasn’t cries for help from being tickled. He still thought it was fun. Just how something so sweet like that should be. When his dink stood firm and straight, I had John increase his stroking speed. He started out at a massive speed. Much too fast.
“Slow down a little there, buddy.”
“It feels yummy,” Andy quickly said.
“I know tiger, but it’ll feel even yummier if you do it a little slower in the beginning.”
I gently moved John’s fingers and showed him with about ten strokes.
“I want to do it,” he objected to my interruption.
“Okay, put your fingers on it, then I’ll show you how to do it.”
After he had retaken possession of my son’s dink he again started out much too eagerly. I clamped my own fingers on top of his and slowed his movements considerably.
“Just like this,” I explained, “You start like this, then after a little while you can do it faster.”
I held my grip on his fingers and kept working them up and down at the slower pace.
“How you doing buddy?” I asked my son.
“It tickles! But yummy tickles.”
I guess that’s a good description of the feelings coming from having your dick handled by your best friend and your dad.
“Okay, let’s try a little faster, shall we?”
“Ooh,” Andy half moaned, half gasped.
John giggled at that.
“’s good,” Andy explained.
I smiled at my son and increased the stroking pace a little bit more.
“Keep doing it like that John.”
He nodded his head and I removed my fingers from his. Letting him have control. I sat up just enjoying the view of two naked boys having fun playing a game that didn’t require any toys at all. It’s probably the cheapest game to play, only thing needed is a willing boy sporting a stiffy. I had a look at John’s groin, his dicky wasn’t really hard but it wasn’t completely soft either. I contemplated reaching out for it, but stopped myself. I didn’t want him to shift his attention from what he was doing.
Andy was squirming his body in tiny jerks. So I told John to go just a tiny bit faster. I knew it probably wouldn’t last much longer. Part of me wanted to join in, to get naked and show them what a grownup orgasm looks like. The other part of me just enjoyed seeing the emotions flowing between the two boys. John patiently stroking the dink of my little son. Smiling and at times giggling as he did. My son lost in the feelings being transmitted from his little groin.
In the end he closed his eyes real tight, firmed up his little bicep muscles along with the rest of his upper body. I bet his toes were curling up too. I didn’t check though. He didn’t make much of a sound, but actually held his breath. When he finally let it out it was in a long sigh.
“I think you can stop now John.”
“Yeah, Andy got the tickles just like you did. And you made it happen!”
“Yeah it’s nice isn’t it?”
With that, I quietly left the room. I knew the boys would come get me if they needed me again. But I hoped it wouldn’t be in the first ten minutes as I desperately had to go choke my hard-on before it fell off.
When I came out of the bathroom I just had a quick look in Andy’s room. You see, the layout of my house is like this, when you enter the house through the main door you come into a smallish hall. There is a cubby for hanging your coats and a rack with all our shoes and boots. Next to that cubby is a tall cupboard where I keep even more outdoors clothing. After the cupboard is the door to Andy’s bedroom. Next to his is my ‘master’ bedroom. All of this is on one side of the hall.
At the opposite wall from the entry door, is the bathroom. On the third wall there’s the door to an open plan dining/living room and kitchen. The kitchen has a door leading to my backyard and there are two terrace doors in the living room, one leading to a small terrace in our front yard and the other to a bigger terrace in our backyard. Yeah it isn’t a large house, but it’s big enough for just me and my son. Hell, there’s even room for another man here.
If the door to my son’s room is open, I only have to stand and walk two steps then I can look in there. His bed is placed at the far wall so if the curtains aren’t pulled, I can see him play there. What is more annoyingly, he can easily shout to me from his room, which he often does when he wants my attention. I’m getting better at just ignoring him until he actually gets up on his two legs and come to me. He has far too many bad habits already. I don’t want laziness to become another one.
When I did have that look in his room all I saw were two small boys playing with Legos. You wouldn’t have been able to tell that they had no more than fifteen minutes prior to that had been playing an entirely different game. Sure, they were still naked. Their underwear had been in the bathroom with me. No, I’m not telling you what I used it for. Use your imagination just for once please. I asked the boys to put on at least a pair of underoos.
I don’t mind boys playing games while being naked, I’m sure you already know, but I do hate disinfecting Legos. And with easy access to bum holes that might be itchy, there’d be no telling where the small fingers handling the Lego bricks had just been. The boys were quick to comply as well, no need for me to ask them twice.
Later that evening after dinner, I had them in the bath. I’d just finished washing the both of them and left them to their own fun in the tub hoping to get a few puffs on the nasty cigarette. I had the door closed but then I heard a shriek from the bathroom. I dropped the cigarette and hurried into the bathroom. John was sitting in the tub and Andy stood facing him. I thought someone had gotten hurt, instead both boys were laughing and giggling like lunatics.
And then I saw why, amidst his giggling, little spurts of pee from Andy’s dink landed on John’s body. He couldn’t keep the flow going because he was giggling so hard. Fortunately John seemed to be having a lot of fun too. I shook my head at the boyish play and left to finish my cigarette. I made sure to really hose both boys down before I got them out of the tub. No, not like that. With the showerhead of course!
Birthday and Christmas!
December has always been a happy month to me. When I was real young, the two biggest events of the year would take place in December. When I got a little older, about age ten, New Years’ Eve joined the two other events. The first to take place is my birthday. That is the 16th of December. Then Christmas, which we here in Denmark celebrate on the 24th, a nice day spent with family, big Christmas dinner where you eat until you almost get sick. After dinner, a little exercise by walking/dancing in a circle while singing around the tree.
I know it probably sounds really strange to anyone who doesn’t do that. But it is tradition here and it is really nice. The tree is lit by small candles or electric lights imitating candles. As the only light in the room. If you’d be looking through a window into the living room of a family on Christmas Eve, you’d see nothing but happiness and coziness. Well, at least until the kids would start begging for getting to the part of opening presents. The gifts would lie so temptingly under the lowest branches of the tree.
And then there’s New Years’ Eve. After age ten it got to be exciting as I’d run around all night long with Casey each with a huge bag of fireworks. I’m not about to tell you all the mischief and downright vandalism we’ve done, just know that we weren’t exactly little angels. Now a days I’d rather just stay inside or, if it isn’t raining or snowing, stand in my yard and watch the fireworks other people have spent their hard earned cash buying.
I really got enough loud explosions to satisfy whatever part of me that enjoyed those, in the National Guard. I was one of my company’s demolitions experts. When you set off 200 or maybe even 500 grams of C-4, you can both hear and feel it. It beats any kind of legal fireworks any day. That’s just my opinion of course.
When Andy was old enough to enjoy the sky being lit up in wondrous patterns of various colors and not be too afraid of the explosions, I’d wake him up and bring him out with me. Of course only if it was my turn to have him. Michelle usually took him to be with her parents. If I didn’t have Andy, I’d go and have dinner with my parents and then go on the hunt for a guy to share my bed with for a couple of hours.
That year when Andy was five, I turned 32. Not really a reason for a big celebration, but after Michelle gave me enough crap about not wanting to throw a party, I gave in. I invited her and the Haskins family over. The Haskins being John’s parents and his sister. And John himself obviously. Andy was mine for the week, so he was there too of course. It was just for rolls, hot cocoa, coffee, and of course a homemade birthday cake. The cake was more for the kids’ sake than for mine.
Whenever we weren’t eating, the boys would either be sitting in front of the TV or playing in Andy’s room. With the door open, so I knew they weren’t doing “naughty” stuff to each other. I had made sure both boys knew there was not to be any hanky panky that day. It would have been too risky with John’s family and Michelle in the house. Jane sat with us adults, at first trying to act like quite the little lady, but soon got busy drawing instead. It was hard to keep the conversation interesting to an eight years old girl.
John had turned seven two months prior to my own birthday, but it was only some kids from the nursery school, amongst them Andy, who was invited to his birthday party. I wasn’t heartbroken for not being invited, but since I had Andy and was inviting John’s parents to my house, it only made sense to have them bring their kids. It made it more fun and the added bonus was I got more presents. As if that really mattered so much at age 32.
But, I did get quite a few gifts, including one from each of the kids who had made it themselves. This makes me sound like an old granny, but it touched me deeply that they’d spend time crafting something for me. I don’t care if their parents made them do it. Or if they thought it would make me give them something bigger or better for Christmas. It still meant a lot to me. The gift I was most impressed by was from John.
It was an ashtray made of clay. Yes, I know, it’s a fairly common thing for a kid to make for someone who smoke cigarettes. A no-brainer really. Yet, this was a bit more advanced than other ashtrays made of clay. John had pressed his hand into the bottom of the tray, and then painted the imprint, using a different color for each of his fingers. Then glazed the ash tray with clear glazing. Right in the middle of his hand imprint, he had written his name and below that my initials.
I hope I don’t have to explain that I never used that particular ashtray. It sat on a small table for a lot of years, until I finally decided to put it in a box along with a lot of other unused items. Another thing I got from John was a homemade happy birthday card. He had written “I love you” with crayons on the front and made a drawing inside the card of Andy, me and him. As I saw this, I looked up at Cheryl, giving her a look that I hoped said ‘what the heck is this?’
She just ever so slightly shook her head. Not the right time, nor the right place for that conversation. So I put that thought aside and hugged John while thanking him for the gifts.
As the party broke up, John pleaded with his mom to spend the night at my house. His mom looked at me and when I nodded, she said it was okay. After everyone but I and the two boys had left, I started cleaning up. Well, I took the stuff from the table into the kitchen at least. Hey, it was my birthday, hell if I was going to spend a lot of time cleaning up. John helped me by carrying mugs and plates from the table. Andy had long since sat himself on the sofa watching TV.
We joined Andy in the living room. John plopped down next to him on the sofa and I sat in my lazy chair. I hit play on the remote to the VCR and the movie the boys had chosen to see started. It was already close to the boys’ bedtime, but I figured since it was only my birthday once a year that it wouldn't hurt the boys to stay up for longer. About half an hour into the movie, John started fidgeting. The boy was clearly not very comfortable. My eyes darted back and forth from the TV to John. The movie was quite boring to me, and it was actually more interesting to watch John.
He had crossed his feet, and occasionally would tense his entire body straightening it out like a board. He’d hold that pose for a moment and then relax. The second time he did it I saw his face. His eyes were following the action on the TV, but every other part of his body was busy doing something else. Then I remembered my own childhood.
“Buddy, do you need to go potty?” I asked John, loud enough to get through the blaring sounds from the children’s movie running on the TV.
“Nuh uh,” John almost breathed out, fully concentrating on the movie.
Then only 10 seconds later he’d tense up his body again. Well, if the boy couldn’t read his own body signals, I sure could. I hit pause on the remote and instantly the picture froze. Well, if you’ve had a VCR then you know that when you pause it, it’ll just show a scrolling picture frame.
“DAD!” Andy yelled out in frustration.
“Sorry tiger,” I said, “John needs to go potty. We’ll watch the rest of movie afterwards.”
“Aw, that’ll take forever.”
“John, off you go. Now, before you have an accident.”
I think John finally realized that he did have to go. He took off running for the bathroom. While John was gone, Andy literally fought me for the remote control, he wanted to get the movie started again, with or without John present. Each time he got close to me, I had him scurrying away in fits of laughter. My tickling fingers kept him at bay. John returned six minutes later, cheeks slightly reddened. He smiled shyly at me, before getting onto the sofa again.
I hit play on the remote and the living room was again filled with the noise from the movie. After about twenty minutes I saw both boys had fallen asleep. I lowered the sound on the TV, half expecting to hear Andy’s protests. He was zonked out though. I picked up his little slack body, his arms and legs hanging loosely from his body as I carried him into the bathroom. If you’ve ever tried undressing a sleeping child, or even worse, getting one dressed, then you know just how tricky that is.
Not to mention getting the sleeping child into a diaper. Andy’s body was just flopping this way and that, not cooperating at all. It took a lot longer than it usually did when Andy was awake and helping me, but I finally had him all wrapped up for the night. After I got him tucked into his bed, it was time to go fetch John.
John was out cold as I caressed his small body. At first it was just a little careful touching, then a little prodding at his body to see if he would wake up. When he didn’t even flinch as I moved his body around on the sofa, I picked him up and went to my bedroom. I’d been wanting to play with Andy’s little friend for a long while. To be honest, I’d been lusting for little boys for as long I can remember. That it was to be John I finally crossed the point of no return with, was purely a matter of easy access.
I undressed John being careful not to disturb his sleep, but still quickly. As he lay naked on his back in my bed, I leaned over him and kissed his little pouty lips, lingered there for a while. His deep slow breathing warmed my cheek as he’d exhale and cooled it as he breathed in through his nose. I imagined him being awake, responding to my kisses. Opening his little mouth and letting my tongue into his moist little cave with those sharp milky white teeth of his.
How he’d moan from pleasure as his little tongue dueled with my bigger one. He’d wrap his little arms around my neck and kiss fiercely back. Let his lust take over and demand me to pleasure him. To make his body ripple in the throes of orgasm. Repeatedly, until he’d sink back with a little smile that would say it all.
In the real world, he didn’t do any of this. He lay there, like a warm, breathing doll. Motionless. Maybe lost in his little boy dreams. I moved down the little distance from his head to his midsection. I saw his little navel slightly curved in to his stomach. I placed my lips around it opening my mouth just enough to allow my tongue to slip out and lick at the inner part of his cute little bellybutton. I could make out the little harder nub where his umbilical cord once had been tied into a knot.
I made love to this little nub, licking it like I’d lick on a dick head. Keeping up a slight vacuum in my mouth. Recalling the real thing was only a very short distance away I moved further south on his body. Leaving his navel slicked up with my spittle. The little boy dicky was flaccid, in its very relaxed state it was a bit longer than usual. The scar from the circumcision marked the difference of the skin on his dick. Like it was a border fence. On the shaft his skin was a pale white, with blue veins crisscrossing like the branches of a tree.
About half a centimeter before his dick tapered into a beautiful little glans, the skin changed into the finer, more delicate skin that had so briefly been protected by his foreskin. It wasn’t as coarse as the skin on the shaft, but felt less delicate than the skin on my own dick. Or the skin on Andy’s. I didn’t dislike the way it looked, it was just fascinating to me. I traced the scar with a fingertip all around to the frenulum on the front of his dick. John’s dick responded to my gentle touches.
It slowly filled itself with blood. Not increasing so much in length as in girth. It widened as more blood flowed into it. Stiffening slowly. As it stiffened it rose from the body of the sleeping boy. As it reached its peak, it stood in a perfect 45 degrees angle, rising over his pubic bone. I could see it move a bit up and down. For every heartbeat it would stiffen up just a bit, then relax a little but not losing any of its firmness.
The boy’s ball sack was completely relaxed as the rest of his body. It looked far too large for the boy, sagging as it was. The impressive sized balls were close to the base of the little stiffy. Like they were desperately holding onto to the boy’s stalk. As if afraid of falling into the sagging pouch underneath them. As I softly tickled the boy’s pouch it tightened up, firmly hugging his balls. The sleeping boys head had fallen to one side, making him snore quietly with every breath.
I decided to bypass sucking his dick, however sweet looking it was. I really had to get him to bed before he’d wake up and I was a bit tired myself from that day’s activities. But before that, I just had to try something. I had always dreamt of doing it, and here was my once-in-a-lifetime chance.
Gently I folded John’s legs back towards his stomach. Like he was a little baby laying on the changing table. I held his ankles in my right hand and used my index finger to circle his little boy hole. It was pretty clean, only a little moist from sweat. I pushed a little at his hole, watching as the little muscle moved inwards from the pressure of my finger. I let some spit dripple onto the hole slicking it up along with my finger.
I increased the force behind my finger pressing it further into John. I could feel the muscle give way, easily. In the relaxed state John was in, I could probably sink my dick into him without it hurting him. I wasn’t prepared to cross that boundary, not yet and certainly not while he was sleeping. It didn’t prevent me from digging deeper with my finger though.
Ever so slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time I pushed all of my finger into him. I didn’t push it in and out like I would have done if preparing him for a nice fuck. Instead I basked in the feeling of his warm rectum enclosing my finger. When he finally did tense up his butt hole, I gently let my finger be pushed out by his muscle. I picked up the boy and carried him like a baby to the bathroom. Not really knowing why, I put one of Andy’s diapers on him, before getting him into his pajamas.
With both boys tucked in, I closed the door to Andy’s room. I had a nice wank to the sweet fantasy of having sex with John. How he loved taking my 15cm, huge to him, dick inside his tight little boy hole, gasping for me to fuck him ever harder. I shot off in record time. I hoped for it to happen someday. That the little angel would turn into a cock-loving slut. But at the same time I knew that it wasn’t ever going to be more than the dream of a perverted mind.
December started out great, but Christmas was really lousy. It was Michelle’s turn to have Andy, and she chose to spend it at her parent’s house. So I could only speak to him for a few minutes every evening before his bedtime. He wasn’t even really interested in talking to me. I spent Christmas at my parents’ house, but it was just hard to get in the right mood. It all felt so incredibly, I’m struggling to find the right word, but fake. Oh, all the right food was there and every visual aspect of it was perfect.
There was just no joy. Christmas is really a season for the kids. I sat there at the dinner table, eating the otherwise fantastic food my mom had spent hours preparing, and couldn’t help but feel a little depressed. I missed the sound of my son’s voice, his laughter, yes even his pleading and begging. He could have bawled his eyes out or screamed in anger and I’d still prefer that to sitting there. Trying to hold up my end of the conversation.
We didn’t do all the dancing around the tree and singing as we used to do when I and Tom were kids. Or like the times where I’d have Andy for Christmas. We just lit the lights on the tree and sat there watching the candle lit tree in all its glory. Yeah, as I said, there was nothing wrong visually. We did exchange gifts, I got a couple of books that I read over the course of the next three days, until Andy finally returned to join me for our own little Christmas celebrations.
It was still Michelle’s week, so I didn’t get to see Andy until the 28th of December. When I read this, it almost sounds like Andy was a dog and we treated him like one. That wasn’t at all how it was. We both adored our little boy and he loved us both equally.
We had been at my place for a few hours that Friday, when Andy asked me a question. I sat in my lazy chair with Andy on my lap and we were just watching whatever was on TV at that time. He was bringing me up to speed on his Christmas experiences, so the TV was little more than background noise really. I think he at one point got tired of talking of the great gifts he had gotten and diverted our conversation into something slightly different.
“Daddy? Me and John plays dicky games with each other, who do you play with?”
“I don’t play with anyone,” I told him, “Daddy just plays with himself.”
Oh, I did pick up men and even some young teens from time to time when it wasn’t my week to have Andy. But they were few and far apart. It was something I wasn’t sure Andy would understand.
“It’s boring to play on your own!”
“It can be boring, but daddy is fine buddy.”
I hoped that would satisfy his need to know.
“No. Let’s play dicky games daddy!”
“Yep, come on, it’ll be fun!”
Had I just jacked off, or even had someone over for a few hours the previous night, my willpower would have been firm enough to say no. But I hadn’t. And it wasn’t. Things were made harder by my son who was busy shucking his clothes in front of me. I’ve always lusted after his body, but always, well almost always, been able to shake it off me. I decided to just play along. I’d let my son decide for how long and what he wanted to do with me.
I wasn’t about to do it right there in the living room though. So I picked him up as he was bent over undoing the Velcro laces on his shoes.
“Okay tiger, let’s play.”
He laughed as I carried him into my bedroom and as he was propelled through the air landing on his back on my bed. Shoes still on, but who cares when it’s about having fun? I took off my shirt before joining him on the bed. I helped him take off his shoes and lay down on my side facing him. He started taking his hoodie off, but it got caught around his head. I reached over and pulled it the rest of the way off.
He was really such a cutie. His hair quite a mess, tousled up from the hoodie being removed. And the look in his eyes. If he had been ten years older I’d say it radiated pure lust or horniness. Maybe my own lust for him made me see something that wasn’t there. But it sure didn’t look like Andy sitting there. I mean, it was his body, but it was like something had possessed it. I got busy taking off my pants and socks to divert my thoughts.
I left my underwear on, making Andy protest.
“You gotta be nekid to play right.”
“You mean naked?”
“’s what I said.”
I had told myself to let him be in charge, so I abided to his rules. And took off my boxer briefs.
“So big!” Andy said looking at it. It felt almost as if I was a bug being studied under a magnifying glass.
He reached out a hand for it and grabbed it, tightly.
“Ow, not too tight, son.”
“And it’s got fur!”
I’m by no means the hairiest of guys. I’ve seen teenagers with a bigger bush than I have down there. I much prefer guys who either shave or at least keep the jungle under control by trimming it. But to my son, whom I hope haven’t seen as many groins as I have and hopefully less with pubic hairs, it seemed to be amazingly hairy.
“You’ll grow hairs down there too,” I told him.
“Yeah, in six or seven years.”
I wanted to tell him that I liked his hairless little dinky. That I’d keep him like that forever or at least for a very long time but this was really no time for talking. He was busy pulling my foreskin back to have a look at the helmet shaped dick head underneath it. I let him do his exploring, but decided to join in with a little exploring of my own. I had of course seen his dink before, even held it in my hand, but I hadn’t really had much of a chance to openly play with it.
So I sat up Indian style and sat him on one of my thighs. He could reach my dick fine from there, and I could reach his and much more, should the opportunity arise. I used a finger to tickle his small balls, prompting a short giggle but no complaint to my action. He had taken to stroke my bared dick head with a finger. I skinned back his hood and touched the very tip of his penis with my own finger, mimicking his actions.
His dicky quickly rose to the attention, thumped in the tight confinement two of my fingers formed around it. That’s when I forgot my own rules. I wanted to taste his little dicky. To feel it in my mouth, make its skin texture familiar to my tongue. So I picked him up and placed him on his back. Gently spread his legs which he did quite by himself really. And I lay down with my head between them. I brought my mouth close to his dicky.
The taste was heavenly. Nothing short of it. The flavor of little boy dicky invaded my taste buds, effectively blocking out any after taste from cake or cocoa. A slight taste of pee and the slightly bitter taste of what little gunk had built up since his wash that same morning. Since it was my son I had in my mouth, I didn’t find the taste offensive at all. It almost felt and tasted like Thomas’ dink had when I sucked him that first time.
This wasn’t Thomas though, it was my son. That fact didn’t really bother me anymore. If he wanted to play, I’d be ready. Now and forever on.
“It’s better than John,” I heard him say from somewhere above me.
‘It bloody well should be’, I thought, ‘I’m not a seven years old boy with little experience.’
Keeping his dicky in my mouth, I opened it and moved my tongue down to lick at his balls. It didn’t really work well, so I took his dick out and sucked in his ball sack and both his small balls instead. I masturbated his dink with my left hand and used my right to lift up his left leg. As it lifted from the bed I pushed it backwards towards his chest. His little bum hole was now reachable by my tongue. I licked at it, tentatively at first.
I tried to assess his feelings towards this, hopefully new experience for him. His giggling told me that he liked it. Letting myself go, I firmed up my tongue and poked at his tiny hole. Not with enough strength to enter it, I didn’t even consider that thought. I just wanted him to feel the sensation of something warm and moist playing with his sensitive anus.
“Daddy! That’s my bum!” He sounded dismayed.
I stopped what I was doing and looked up into his eyes.
“I know it is,” I said, and returned to what I had just been doing. I quite liked the taste. He was clean down there, and the musky taste of a bum hole only got stronger the more I licked at it. He didn’t voice any further concerns to what I did to his nether exit. Probably thinking that I knew what I was doing and that it was okay for me to do so, as I was his daddy. I lingered for a few minutes more at his backside. Then I let go of his leg.
“That was fun!” He let me know, “now roll over!”
I got onto my back, wondering what he was going to do to me now.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded, “and no peeking!”
I shut my eyes, and could feel his hand grab hold of my dick. Then the foreskin being brought back. Then something moist and soft touch it. What was that? He surely wouldn’t be doing what it felt like. But he did. I felt my dick head being enclosed by a tight ring, immediately followed by a moist and oh so warm sensation. I opened my eyes and lifted my head quickly.
He quickly backed off my dick, letting the head eject from his mouth.
“Dad! When I tell you to do something, you gots to do it!”
I had to smile at being told off by my five and a half years old son.
“Sorry, I’ll do it.”
I put my head back on the bed, closing my eyes. Succumbing to the inexperienced blowjob my son tried to perform on me. My dick was much too large for his little mouth, but that didn’t stop him. At first, I felt it on my dick and then heard him gag around it. The wet feeling of his mouth increased as more saliva amassed in it.
“Don’t try to suck on too much of it Andy,” I told him, “You’re doing really well.”
“It’s too darn big!” I heard after he pulled off my dick a second time. And got back to sucking on just the head.
Already I was close to shooting my sperm into his mouth. Too fucking soon. I wanted to bask in the feelings for so much longer. A year would probably have been sufficient for me. But not a measly thirty seconds. It was just too wild having my son sucking on my dick. Without even being asked or worse, coerced into doing it. I knew he did it to John. But that was different. They were friends. We were father and son.
“Andy, you better stop now,” I reluctantly told him.
“Nuh uh” he hummed around my dick head.
“I mean it. If you don’t you’ll get a lot of yucky stuff in your mouth.”
That finally made him pull away.
“You’d pee in my mouth?!”
“No not pee. When grownups get the tickles, sperm will come out of their dicky,” I explained as I sat up a bit.
“I wanta see!”
“Okay, but let me give you your tickles first.”
I sucked him into a nice orgasm, after which he again told me I was much better than John. But he made me swear a solemn oath never ever to tell him he had said that. I then whacked my dick with a very curious five years old boy observing closely.
“Is it coming?”
“Now?” after a ten seconds pause.
“No, just wait and see.”
“I wanna see it!”
“You’ll never see it, if you won’t be quiet.”
At last that made him shut up. His eyes got really big as he saw the sperm pump out of my dick.
“That’s not pee?”
“No, see it’s white. Pee is yellow.”
He didn’t want to touch it, but did take a sniff at it when I held up my hand for him. He held onto my hand with both of his, worried I’d rub it in his nose.
“EEWWWW!” He wrinkled up his nose.
I wondered what he’d do the first time John shot his sperm into either his hand or mouth. Would that be as horrid as mine?
That night was the first of many times where Andy and I would play sex games together. Sometimes we’d even sit in the sofa watching Disney movies while I was lazily fondling his little dicky. Other times he’d lay on my stomach nursing on my dick head while I licked his little hole. My seemingly endless search for someone to finally love seemed to have ended. I hadn’t found anyone, but my son had found me!
Don’t get me wrong now. Andy seemed to enjoy the sex games he played with me, but John was his first choice for a playmate. I knew I was just someone Andy would come to, if he was bored and John wasn’t around to play with. Sometimes, like I had encouraged both of them to, either one of them would ask me why doing a particular thing would feel nice. Other times, they’d want to try something out, either both of them with me, or me with one of them.
John seemed almost more interested in his little bum hole than his dicky. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d grow up to be a bottom. Andy was much more focused on the things in front. He always acted incredibly grossed out when I played with his bum. He let me do it to him, clearly enjoying the feeling of my tongue lapping at his little hole. But as he always stressed, I weren’t to expect him to return the favor.
“Daddy, you can lick my bottom all you want. But I never ever wanna lick yours! Nuh-uh!”
I never tried to push him into doing it. I mean, I liked having my butt licked almost as much as I loved licking a clean hairless bum myself. But I’d never be able to force Andy to do something he didn’t want. That is, when it came to sex stuff. The normal things as teeth brushing and picking up his room, I had no problems getting him to do. By force if necessary. Gentle of course, but teeth brushing in the earlier years had really been a mix of using physical restraint and lots of encouraging words.
Now that I mention getting physical, I did give him some slaps on his upturned bum at times. Nothing out of proportion really, but if he did something during his terribly twos (and later on) that was downright dangerous to him, he’d get a swat or three on his bottom. Afterwards I’d hold him in a firm hug and let him settle down. He usually didn’t cry really hard, but I wanted him to be calm so I could explain why I had smacked his bottom. We always parted as friends. I made sure of that.
Some might call me brutal, I just call it getting his attention and getting him out of a dangerous situation with no damage other than a smarting bottom for a very short time. It was in my opinion better than letting him get seriously burnt for example or having to sit in his room barred from contact with someone he loved. As he got older, the need to smack him fortunately decreased significantly. I didn’t like being the one causing the tears in his eyes. Oh I’ve heard my share of “I hate you!” and slamming of doors, but it wasn’t something that happened daily.
Most of the time I probably spoiled the kid rotten. Maybe it was because I only really had him part time. My boss knew I was a part time parent and let me cut back a little on my hours the weeks I had him. He knew I’d spend more time at work when Andy was with Michelle. So in the end I worked the same hours as everyone else at work. Officially the work week was only 37 hours due to the collective agreements arranged by the unions. Unofficially I put in 45-50 hours every week on average.
I had the option of either taking the extra hours off from work or if I really needed the extra cash, get them converted into money. With the high taxes in Denmark, I really preferred to take the time off. At least the state wouldn’t take half of the hours, like they did with my salary. A lot of the hours I took off, I used in the National Guard. Whenever I went to the school to be an instructor, I’d get paid for my trouble. Not a whole lot per hour, but I was paid for 15-16 hours per day. At times I got more out of being a “part-time” instructor than from my full time job.
The extra money then went to outings with Andy. Either day trips to different amusement parks, such as Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen. We also went to the Summerland Zealand, which is more adventure oriented than Tivoli is. One of Andy’s favorite places to go was Lalandia. It’s this big adventure land with huge indoors swimming pools that has a tropical climate. It was also one of my favorite places. For Andy it meant having lots of fun, for me it was a place to watch boys.
Oh yes, even if I had Andy to have fun with, I did watch other boys too. Sometimes imaging what they’d look like running around naked; well, truth be told, if they would enjoy bed activities as much as Andy and also John seemed to. Once Andy and John started being friends, I’d bring John along to Lalandia as well. This made for some really interesting evenings with two boys zonked out from all the swimming, running and playing during the day.
Now, that I’m talking of John anyway, he was with his family out of town that Christmas. For the entire time from the 17th of December until January 5th, they were spending time with his two sets of grandparents. Andy was slowly trying everything he could do to drive me insane. Without John to entertain him, that task fell upon me. On the 30th of December, a Sunday, Andy came out from his room. For the third time that day.
“Daddy! I dunno what to do now.”
“Think of something.”
“I did thinked already!”
“I can’t. I’m bored.”
“Play with your Legos.”
Right, so Legos worth a small fortune were suddenly reduced to having no value at all.
“Draw me a picture.”
“ANYTHING!” I didn’t want to shout, but Andy had really caught me at a bad time.
“Daddyyyyyyy,” Andy cried out.
“Come tiger, you know how to play,” I said in a much softer and hopefully soothing voice.
“I want John.”
I wanted him too. Not only for keeping Andy company but I really wanted to see and feel his body again. In particular that little circumcised dick of his. With his little bum hole a close runner up. Instead I opted for something else.
“Tiger, put your shoes and coat on.”
Andy scrambled to the hall as I shut down the computer. We couldn’t have what we both really wanted, but at least there were other choices. I moved Andy’s booster seat and got him buckled in on the front passenger seat. I drove us both to my parents. I took them completely by surprise, not having called ahead. They were, as always, really happy to see us though. While Andy yakked my dad’s ears off in their living room, I went with my mom into the kitchen. She asked me why I hadn’t called to say we were coming.
“But what would you have done if we weren’t home?” she continued after I told her I wanted it to be a surprise.
“Well, I took a chance, but really, where would you be if not at home?”
She didn’t have much of a comeback to that. The day before New Year’s Eve wasn’t really a day spent out partying. Besides they had both reached an age, where they much rather preferred to have people come to their house. Even if they hadn’t been home, Andy and I would still have gotten a nice little road trip out of it. We spent the rest of the day there, only leaving after dinner. The wee one fell asleep on the way home.
The last day of 2007 we spent a lot of time outside. People were as usually lighting fireworks, so Andy and I walked hand in hand around the town, moving from one spot to another to stand and watch. All the walking made him tired, so he had a long nap before dinner and was able to stay awake to witness one year ending and another begin. I had worried the noise from the fireworks would keep him up all night, but to my surprise and great relief he managed to go to sleep without problems.
John simulates going to sleep.
Some time later, John accompanied Andy one Friday as he made the move from Michelle’s house to mine. It wasn’t an altogether strange thing as John had taken to spend as many nights as he possibly could get away with at my house. Lyle asked me on more than one occasion if it was okay with me and told me I could always send the little scamp home if I ever had enough of him. I shrugged it off, saying something in the lines of not really noticing him being around.
That Friday afternoon they arrived shortly after 4PM, just as I had parked my car. If I had been the suspicious type, I’d say they had been waiting for me to return from work. As I unlocked the door they appeared at the end of my short driveway.
“Daddy, you’re home!” Andy cried out like he hadn’t seen me for months.
“And so are you!” I tried to mimic his voice, getting close to it.
“DAD, don’t mock me.”
“Hi John,” I turned my attention to his little sidekick.
“Hi Teddy,” John greeted me.
“Come, in you go,” I opened the door and ushered the two boys inside.
Even with spring on its way, it was still chilly and cold outside and the boys of course hadn’t bothered to put on coats to walk the less than 50 meters from Michelle’s to my house. At least this time they had remembered to bring them. The last time, I had to go fetch them myself as the boys were too chilled to go out again without winter coats on.
I decided to get dinner started, calling the boys to help me, before they got too immersed into their playing. Even if they were young, they could probably have cooked the food on their own. I was just making a lasagna, which the boys loved, but to make it a little healthier I put in carrots, peas and corn along with the meat. Andy usually objected to vegetables but in a lasagna he would eat them just fine.
I had made him adjusted to the taste by blending the vegetables until they nearly liquefied, and mixed that with the meat. But now he enjoyed the different colors and the texture of the vegetables. If I made a meal where the vegetables were placed next to meat and potatoes, he’d flat out reject to eat even a little of them. He was just a normal picky eater. Like I had been myself, up until the time I went to the boarding school.
If I didn’t eat the food, whether I liked it or not, I would end up going hungry until the next meal. They didn’t serve up something else just because you didn’t like it. Only if you were allergic to something. Which I’m not.
Anyway, the boys got a stack of carrots each and started peeling them using sharp knife peelers. I trusted them not to hurt themselves and if they had ended up cutting themselves, I did have plenty of bandages. While the kids did that, kneeling on chairs in front of the kitchen sink, I set the table and then started cooking the sauce. No you can’t have the recipe. It’s been in my family for hundreds of years. Well, not really. It was just a package from the supermarket.
I do know how to make lasagna from scratch using no precooked items, but I only do it on days off work. And let’s face it, the taste buds of children can’t really tell the difference from the really good stuff and stuff you buy somewhat ready to eat anyway. When the boys were done peeling and shredding the carrots, they washed their hands yet again and went to watch TV in the living room. I joined them when I had put the lasagna in the oven.
It was just silly cartoons they were watching, but there’s nothing like that to unwind from having to make grownup decisions at work. Decisions that in the end could mean the difference between all the trains in Denmark running or coming to a standstill because one of the servers had failed.
We had finished eating and cleaning up after it at around 7PM, where the boys went to Andy’s room and played behind a closed door. I watched the news and checked my emails, and at 8:30PM I ran the bath for the boys to share.
“Boys, bath time!” I shouted loud enough for them to hear me, but not to disturb the neighbors. They came flying into the bath room, already removing items of clothing on the way. John had been shy around me in the beginning when I’d give them a bath, but now he really seemed to look forward to it and enjoying the playful activity. When the boys were dry and in their pajamas, Andy with his trusty diaper underneath, we went into Andy’s room.
I told them one of my stories and had tucked them in by 9:30PM. I sat down with a glass of the white wine I had opened for dinner and watched the beginning of a movie on the TV. I couldn’t really keep focus on it, my thoughts kept going back to the bathing session. I decided to read a bit in a book instead. I didn’t really want to get too deep into thinking about naked boys or I’d have to whack off at an earlier time than I presumed was safe.
I sat in my lazy chair having read a couple of pages as I heard the door into Andy’s room open. I looked up and saw John looking at me.
“Hey buddy, can’t sleep?” I asked him.
He shook his head and came over standing next to me sitting in the chair.
“Teddy, what does pervert mean?” he asked me.
“Where did you hear that word?” I asked, surprised that a seven years old boy would even know that vile word.
“My dad called me that,” the little guy said quietly.
I turned my lazy chair so I could lift John into my lap. As I sat him sideways, he leaned his head up against my chest.
“Why did he say that to you?” I asked, while really thinking, ‘what the hell is wrong with that idiot?’
No, not John, but Lyle, John’s father. I placed my hand on his shoulder, hugging him.
John told me about the time where he had been caught playing much the same game as he played with Andy. A secret game. John had only been around 4, as far as I could figure out from the way he told his story. It wasn’t exactly chronologic. But I got the essence of it. His partner in crime had been an age mate, his best friend at the time.
“No,” John corrected himself, “Ben was my only friend.”
They would play the game only when outside, where no one would ever come and surprise them. At least in the beginning. As time progressed, they would find other places to play it. Places that didn’t take so long to get to. At the end they’d just go into a closet in their classroom in the kindergarten.
“And then, my teacher opened the door to the closet and yelled at us,” John was crying now, making it hard for me to understand his words.
“My dad yelled at me that I was a pervert and never to do that again,” now he was really sobbing.
“I never saw Ben again!”
I placed my other arm around John. Hugging him close and kissed the top of his head. I whispered to him that he wasn’t a pervert. That he was a very sweet boy. Indeed one of the sweetest boys I knew.
‘Not that I know very many,’ I thought. But John was really just a sweet, caring little boy. Always helping Andy, and genuinely wanting to help me when he was around my house.
I let John cry, sometimes you really need to rinse the sorrow away with your tears. Ending it prematurely doesn’t work. Trust me on this, I know. It took a good ten minutes for the boy to slowly stop crying. When he seemed to be ready, I spoke to him again.
“John, buddy, I’m not going to explain what pervert means. It’s a bad word. One that doesn’t fit you at all.”
He seemed to be relieved with that information. I wasn’t sure if he’d accept that, maybe he would return at another time, demanding to know more about the word. But for now, he seemed like a weight had fallen from his back. He sat up straight in my lap and looked at me. With his cheeks still wet from his tears, he smiled at me. His little signature smile. I wondered just what went on in his little bright mind when he said something that would have knocked me off my feet, if I hadn’t been sitting already.
“I liked when you put your finger in my bum hole,” he chippered at me.
“You were awake?” I was shocked.
I thought the boy had been asleep. He hadn’t moved a muscle, not until the very end at least.
He simply nodded his head one time down and then looked back at me while still flashing his little smile.
“Andy won’t do anything to my butt. He says it’s yucky.”
I rubbed his shoulder.
“Did you really like it when I played with your butt?”
“Uh huh,” he acknowledged.
I moved my hand from his shoulder, slowly down his back, finally lightly cupping one of his butt cheeks.
“Want me to play with it again?”
I could feel his head moving against my chest as he nodded.
“Okay buddy, help me take your pants down.”
He lifted up his butt as I pulled on his jammies bottoms. They slipped off his little bum and I pulled them all the way off his feet. The half-naked imp sat back down on my lap. I moved him so he sat with his back against my chest and little legs on either side of mine. Leaning back I made the chair recline. I placed my feet back on the footstool.
“Buddy, put your feet on my thighs,” I gently said and helped him do that.
Now I could reach behind his right leg and gain access to his little butthole. While my left hand was free to fondle his dicky.
‘Damn it, where’s the fucking lube when I need it,’ I thought desperately to myself. Here I was, close to fulfilling one of my die hard fantasies and I didn’t have anything to make his anus slippery. I thought of using spit like the last time, but now that John was awake and actually wanting me to finger his ass, I wanted to use the real thing. It would make it so much better for him and it wouldn’t dry up as quickly as spit.
“Hang on tight, buddy,” I told him, “We need to get something.”
He looked back up at me, not really understanding. I grabbed hold of his thighs, keeping him securely in the position I had so carefully gotten him in to. Then I moved my feet from the footstool yet again and shifted our weight so the chair moved to the upright position. At the end of the chair’s movement I got onto my feet. It was tricky to keep my balance, but I had lugged more weight around in the National Guard than what this impish boy weighed.
I walked over to the table where my computer was, with John still folded up and giggling in front of me, and bent a bit in my knees and leaned over a little.
“Open the top drawer, please.”
He opened it and took the items I asked him. Then I moved us back to the lazy chair and gingerly sat down again. We ended up in pretty much the same position as we had started out from. But this time, plenty of lube and paper tissues were in reach. As that was what John was holding in his hands.
“Now we can play,” I told the smiling boy.
I took the tube of clear water-based lube and squeezed out a big dollop onto two fingers. I moved my hand down to his waiting hole.
“This will be a bit cold at first,” I told him as I pushed my fingers gently at his anus.
He made a little hissing sound, but bore it bravely. I transferred as much of the gooey stuff onto his ass, slicking up not only his anus but part of his buttocks too. Turning my index finger around in the goo I made it as slippery as I could before I placed the very tip of it just on top of his little opening.
“Ready for this?” I asked the now very silent boy.
“Uh huh, stick it in my bum,” he said with determination in his voice.
I went slow, almost slower than I had that night after my birthday party was over. Apparently he knew what to do, as I slid my finger in without any obvious pain. When I finally couldn’t push more into him, I asked him if he liked it.
I had my hand of which one finger was deeply imbedded into the seven years old boy in between said boy’s legs. So it was easy turning it to be able to play with the little pleasure spot inside his ass. I wanted to see if such a small boy would be getting any joy out of being massaged inside his ass. Or if that didn’t happen until puberty. Based on the sudden flinching of his lithe body, it wasn’t just older boys and men that could get something out of their prostate gland.
John’s prostate was of course less developed than a grown mans but it was there and I massaged it slowly and very lightly. The little boy breathed harder. I didn’t want this to end so soon. I wanted to prolong it so I’d get the most out of it. John seemed to enjoy having something up his butt and if I played my cards just right, maybe it wouldn’t stop at just one finger. I wanted to see if he’d enjoy being fucked too. I pulled back on my finger.
I pulled it almost all the way out of his slick bum hole, and could feel the butthole tighten up as I moved it out. Like it tried with all it’s might to make it stay inside.
“Don’t worry, John, we’re not done yet,” I whispered.
He got the point as I pushed my finger back in. I could feel it, even if he didn’t say so. His butt loosened its tight grip on my finger as soon as he realized it was coming back for more. I made sure the tip slid across his prostate. He gasped quietly as I reached it.
Not a talkative boy, not at that very moment, but I knew what he was experiencing. I knew that John had to be a miniature version of myself. Someone who loved having something up his ass. I brought my other hand down to join the one between his legs. I got it slicked up with some of the excess lube and then took hold of his dicky, while I kept working my finger in and out of him.
I fondled his dicky into a stiffy and stroked it inside my fist. His little dick head would just peek out over the rim formed by my thumb and index finger when I pushed my hand all the way down into his pubic bone. On the up stroke I didn’t stop until only the head was held by my little finger. Then slowly down again. I matched the speed that I moved up and down on his dick to the one I was going in and out his little bum hole.
His breathing was more rapid now and much more powerful. Like he was struggling to get the air his body needed. His eyes were closed but not tightly so. He had a look of heavy concentration on his face. Like he was desperately trying to decode the signals bombarding his brain from several parts of his body. Oh, how I wanted to be able to plug into his brain and feel what he felt. To see what he was thinking.
I sped up a little. Both in front and rear. I was moving my hands quite fast by then. The finger in his ass making little slurping noises. Or was it the hand on his dick that made the noise? I didn’t know, I just knew it was the sound of sex. This wasn’t a little boys’ game. I was truly and utterly having sex with this little boy. The friend of my son. And it felt so right. It felt as if this was what all the rest of my life had been for. That it had led to precisely this moment.
John gasped out loud. Really loud I mean. I could feel his hole tightening up rhythmically around my finger. He moaned quietly for me as he underwent his kiddy cum. I slowed my finger in his ass and stopped moving it completely when I had it deep inside of him. My fingers on his dicky, pushing lightly into his pubic bone. Holding his dick tight. I could feel it pulsing, not a lot, certainly not as strongly as his ass was gripping my finger when he had one of the muscle spasms that in years to come would send sperm flying out his dick.
He didn’t go on forever, but it was as if time had slowed right down and it seemed to take quite a while before the time between each spasm increased, the strength of them decreased, and finally they stopped altogether. John seemed to have melted in my arms. His body completely relaxed, although he was still breathing really fast. His breathing slowed down over the next few minutes in which I removed my fingers from his dick and butt.
I thought he was asleep as I gently got him into my arms and carried him into the bathroom where I put him on his back on the counter. The one where I’d put the diaper on Andy, yes. I cleaned up John like I had done Andy so many times. With a damp washcloth lovingly moving over his little bum cheeks, pressing ever so gently into the hole to wipe away any traces of lube. Finally wiping his little dicky and pubis clean as well.
I had reached up for a diaper before I knew what I was doing. I had it in my hand, already unfolding it when I remembered it wasn’t Andy laying there in front of me. It was John. And John didn’t need to be diapered.
“Please,” he said quietly.
I looked him in his eyes and he nodded at me.
“I want it.”
I granted him his wish and put the diaper on him. After all, he was the best friend of my son. But to me, he was starting to become so much more than that.
The following morning I woke before the boys did. I had set my alarm that morning. I usually slept in on weekends. That is at least what I did when I didn’t have Andy. When he was at my house, I’d only get to sleep until the time where Andy would try to rip my arm from the rest of my body.
“But daddy, it’s time to get up!” he’d use as an excuse for trying to maim me.
I’d groggily wave him off, sometimes it even worked. For all of five minutes. Then he’d be back pulling at my arm again. That’s when I’d finally shake off the sweet dream of just going back to sleep and get out of bed. I’d follow Andy into the bathroom put him on the counter and remove his saturated diaper. At least he had stopped pooping in his diaper more than 2 years earlier. It was just his bladder that was too small to hold the pee building up at night.
Or maybe his body wasn’t producing the proper hormones to make his kidneys slow the urine production. I wasn’t sure and neither I, nor Michelle, Andy’s mother, were concerned about it. It just meant I gave some more of my money to Huggies. Michelle was more into saving money, so she used cloth diapers. I thought that was gross, particularly if not washing the diaper the very same day it had been used. But her house, her rules.
In my house, Andy wore Huggies Overnights, the largest size. It had Winnie the Pooh on it, an extremely cute image, and fortunately Andy didn’t really seem to care what was on the diaper. I think he would’ve gone to sleep in a plastic shopping bag, if it meant he’d wake up in a dry and warm bed. He hadn’t reached an age where he dreaded having to wear a diaper at night. It was just what he had always done, so it was only natural for him.
That morning, I had set the alarm to wake me at 6:00AM. It was about an hour earlier than Andy would normally be wanting me to get up and remove his diaper, our usual morning ritual. I got up earlier, as I wanted to check up on John before Andy woke up. I had put John in a diaper the previous night after I finger fucked the little tyke to orgasm. I had tucked him in and kissed his forehead before I went and had and wank of my own, using the same lube on my dick as I had used on and in him.
I wanted to ask John whether he wanted Andy to know about him wearing a diaper to bed or not. Before waking John, I checked his diaper. I put my hand under the covers and moved it to his crotch. I could feel the diaper had been used. It had swelled up just like Andy’s would. John was still very much at sleep and I knew he didn’t wet himself at night.
‘He must have peed in it on purpose before falling asleep’ I thought, smiling to myself.
I shook the boy, gently at first. He didn’t wake up, just murmured a little in his sleep. I tickled his nose lightly. He just swatted my hand away, still sleeping. Then I really started tickling his ribs.
“Nooo, stop,” John finally said, sleepily.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said keeping my voice low, “Do you want to get the diaper off now without Andy seeing?”
“No,” he yawned, before he was out like a light again.
Making sure Andy was still asleep and hoping he’d be in that state for a couple of hours more, I quickly went and drained my bladder before returning to my own warm bed.
Only to feel my arm being tugged at about an hour later. ‘God, why are you doing this to me?’
“I am awake now, Andy. You can stop your pulling.”
“Daddy, guess what?”
“John got a diaper on.”
“Oh, really?” I said acting surprised, continuing the line in my head, ‘as if I didn’t know, I put him in it.’
“Yes. He peed it!”
“Yep. Just like me!”
“Nooo! You didn’t pee your diaper, did you?”
“Daddy, you know I pee my diaper.”
“I do know, tiger,” I said and pulled him into bed with me, “and daddy loves you.”
I smothered his little face with sloppy kisses while tickling his tummy.
“DADDY!” he shrieked, “I’ll pee in your bed if you don’t stop!”
“So? You are wearing protection,” I grabbed at his diaper while still tickling him with my other hand.
Andy giggled and squirmed, but didn’t really do much to fend off my tickling. About a minute later his body stopped squirming. As his giggling stopped, he got the look on his face that I knew really well. The look of a boy enjoying the feeling of pee rushing through his penis and the satisfying sensation of a full bladder being emptied. I stopped my tickling and rubbed his tummy through his pajamas.
“I’m done now,” he said a moment later.
It was the same words a smaller version of Andy had said when he sat on his potty when being potty-trained. Obviously after he had finished peeing or the other thing, you do when you sit on a potty. Fortunately the diaper didn’t leak. I can’t remember another time where one of Andy’s diapers had been so full of pee. It had swelled up to max capacity and still hadn’t been able to absorb all of the pee that had vacated Andy. I found out when I had him on the counter just a wee bit later.
“Did you wake up John?” I asked Andy.
“I’m here!” John said from the end of the bed.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since Andy woke you.”
“Sorry buddy, I didn’t see you. I would have done the same to you. But Andy really needs to get out of his diaper now.”
“It’s okay. I peed in the diaper when Andy woke me.”
‘What a boy!’ I thought.
I couldn’t decide which little boy’s diaper to take off first. I knew Andy’s was about bursting at the seams, but didn’t know the exact state of John’s. As I sat up in the bed with my feet on the floor, I beckoned John to come to me. He got close enough for me to reach out with my hand and get a good feel of his diaper. He even spread his legs apart allowing my hand to move further in between his legs. His diaper didn’t feel quite as soaked as Andy’s. A lot more swelled up than earlier that morning, but not at risk of leaking.
As I fondled his diaper my mind flashed back to the night before. How I had so unashamedly abused this little boy who had clearly enjoyed everything I had done to him. My dick quickly rose to attention. Like it was hoping for some more action.
“Daddy, your dicky is big again.”
Andy, the ever so observing boy had been lying on the bed next to me. As he reached for my dick, I got up from the bed. I had to get that diaper off of him before he turned my bed into a waterbed.
“Boys go to the bathroom, I’ll be right with you.”